


Rotation Pattern

by manhattan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Daiyui Week, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Obliviousness, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattan/pseuds/manhattan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think,” Michimiya begins once, on one of the rare occasions they walk home together. She doesn’t finish right away, biting her lower lip and chewing as she thinks. Daichi waits, rolling his shoulder under the handle of his bag. She exhales then, a cloud of resentment, and goes on: “Do you think of your teammates as your partners, Sawamura?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rotation Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> i probably wont make the one-chapter-per-day quota but at leAST I TRIED (sobbing)
> 
> this is so sloppy too gdi

**1\. partners**

-

“Do you think,” Michimiya begins once, on one of the rare occasions they walk home together. She doesn’t finish right away, biting her lower lip and chewing as she thinks. Daichi waits, rolling his shoulder under the handle of his bag. She exhales then, a cloud of resentment, and goes on: “Do you think of your teammates as your partners, Sawamura?”

“Of course,” he replies at once, almost offended, before he further analyzes her expression. Her cheeks, as always, are tinted, but he suspects it is from the frosty air, instead of her usual vivacity.

He wonders if he’s somehow said the wrong thing.

“Why?” Daichi nearly asks, but then decides against it, frowning instead.

“Mm,” Michimiya says, looking ahead with a tired set of eyes. “I see, I see.”

It is only when they part ways, when the silence allows for contemplation, that he remembers that Michimiya has recently retired from volleyball. _Stupid_ , he thinks, as he shuts the door to his bedroom. His bag makes a dry noise as it falls onto his carpet. _Stupid_ , he thinks again, for good measure.

-

“Michimiya,” he calls out, the next time he sees her, quickening his step until they’re side by side. The corridor is full of people, and some of the girls exiting her classroom give him a funny look, but Michimiya only widens her eyes at him, surprised. She slows down to accommodate him, and he adds: “Hey, about our last--”

“Yui-chan, hurry,” a blond girl calls out from the stairwell, a hand cupped around her mouth, “I heard the music club is planning on buying puddings en masse and I really want some today!”

“Oh, um,” Michimiya says, torn between lingering or going. Daichi straightens under her gaze, while the blond girl crosses her arms and gives him a look bordering on voracious. Michimiya flushes pink when she notices, and calls back: “Just, um, just go on ahead, Riko-chan. I won’t take long, promise!”

Riko pouts, but she darts downstairs rather quickly; Daichi feels glad, and can’t quite pinpoint why.

“So,” Michimiya says, looking up at him, “what did you want, Sawamura?”

It strikes him now that perhaps she is expecting something a little more important than his definition on what partnership is, and what it means to him, and maybe she’s forgotten all about it already and he shouldn’t bring up those sort of glum feelings again. He blinks, instead, and stares back at her until the flush on her face multiplies.

“Regarding, um,” he says, unthinkingly, “regarding what we talked about last time.”

Michimiya’s face pales, her previous smile stiffening into an uncomfortable curve.

“W-What do you mean?” she asks, cocking her head. Always too honest, always too transparent; she has never been good at hiding her feelings. “I don’t seem to recall,” she goes on, and even darts a glance at the stairways, ready to flee.

“Michimiya,” Daichi cuts in, nearly setting a hand on her shoulder, like she’s Hinata or Noya and not her, “I should've given it more thought. My reply, I mean. It’s - it’s not like that for everyone.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, and it almost goes unheard amidst the crowd.

“Is this about your team?” he asks. When she only looks to the side, he goes on: “It’s over, Michimiya. You can’t beat yourself forever. You can try to do better next time, and - and you’re still friends with the team, so--”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Michimiya cuts in, still soft, still not looking at him. “We … we might be friends, but … that only made me realize we were never partners.” Then she sighs shortly and squares her shoulders, glancing up at him. “I have to go pudding-hunting now, Sawamura, or Riko-chan will definitely sulk. I’ll see you around!”

And she jogs downstairs before he can get another word in, nearly running into two other students. Not like Daichi was planning to say anything more; the way she so certainly finished the conversation was enough of a deterrent. So he just sighs, scratches at the nape of his neck, and makes his way back to his classroom.

-

Daichi sees her as he is heading to the gym, a few days later. She’s chatting with two other girls, laughing and flushing prettily, and he almost jogs in their direction, ready to talk, to question, to -

He doesn’t. Michimiya is in her uniform, walking towards the school gate; not in sweatpants, not running laps around the yard. Daichi wraps his hand around the ring of keys, and watches her, feeling antsy. It wouldn’t be fair to rip her out of a pattern of smiles, only to stitch her into another patch of sadness. He still wants - still wants to understand why she’s feeling like this, still wants to understand why her teammates weren’t partners, still wants to understand how to make her overcome it.

But Daichi’s only ever been selfish when it comes to volleyball, and so he lets her go with a sigh, withdrawing into the shadow of the building.

“Fight-o, Michimiya,” he mutters, and jogs away into the locker rooms.

-

“You were right,” Michimiya tells him, when it’s their day off from practice and they find each other by the gates. Her friends wave giggling goodbyes, and she turns a pinker color, but the seriousness doesn’t fade from her face. “I should try harder, next time.”

“Right,” he nods, only to ascertain he knows what she’s talking about. Above them, the sky darkens into crimson, bleeding into the puddles by their feet. He hopes it won’t rain.

“I, um,” she goes on, frowning, “what I meant back then was … If - if the girls were my partners, then we would’ve gotten further than we did. Like, I dunno. When I think of the word, I think of you,” she adds, without looking at him, and Daichi’s throat goes a little tight, his spine goes a little straighter. But then she goes on: “You and the boys are - you’re really, really--” and she sighs, shoulders slumping. He relaxes alongside her, neck warm for some reason. “You’re my definition of what partners should be like.”

“Michimiya,” he says, frowning back at her.

“It’s true, Sawamura,” she replies, shaking her head. “Me and the girls, we were friends. We are friends. We had fun and we messed around in practice and I was lenient with all of them. It’s different.”

Daichi can’t argue with that. He wishes he could, but Michimiya is honest, always has been, and he won’t disappoint her by falsely placating. He huffs into his hands instead, warming them up, and watches her burrow her chin into her scarf.

“I guess I get it,” he says.

“Mm,” she hums, nodding briskly. “But I’ll get over it. I’m, um - I’ve been thinking of getting into a more sports-oriented college. I want to keep on playing, even if it’s just a few more years.”

 _I thought your father wanted you to go into the closest college_ , Daichi nearly lets out. He clears his throat instead, buries his hands into his pockets, and wonders if Michimiya will keep changing while he’s not looking. Wonders if she’s choosing the same college he is.

“I see,” Daichi says, because he can’t help but to want to know. “Have you decided yet?”

She flushes, then, and brings her scarf up around her face. Brown eyes flee from his, sparking like flint. He feels like the bottom of his stomach is aflame.

“Maybe,” she very obviously lies.

Daichi averts his eyes to the road, catching the clouds printed upon the watery asphalt, and smiles.

 


End file.
